


All the King's Horses

by MarInk



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Canonical Character Death mentioned, Fix-It, Gen, If you squint really-really hard there might be a hint of pre-coldflash, Mick needs a beer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 10:22:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22505470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarInk/pseuds/MarInk
Summary: Mick has a plan. Also, Sparkly is really slow on the uptake.Damned puns.
Kudos: 12





	All the King's Horses

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching season 2 of Legends and missing Len like a lot. So here you go.

“Hello, Sparkly.”

The speedster lets out a squeak like a mouse and stumbles, landing on the floor with a thud.

Mick is having some doubts about his plan - he was never one for planning, he had Snart for that - but since he’s already here, he might as well go through with it.

Having recovered somewhat, Sparkly flicks the light switch.

“Heatwave!” Sparkly’s voice is embarrassingly high. “What - what are you - aren’t you with the Legends? Time, uh, time travel?”

“Took a little detour,” Mick says.

Sparkly’s eyes are trained on Mick’s heat gun which is loaded but not firing. Yet.

Mick really wants to fire it, but he can hear an imaginary Snart voice in his head, saying with that obnoxious drawl, ‘Cool it, Mick’.

Even dead, the guy is still a punning asshole.

Sparkly runs his hands through his hair.

“Okay, a detour, okay. A detour here? In my apartment? Why? And how do you even know where I live? Did Snart tell you my real name?”

Sparkly sounds pretty hurt by the idea.

“He didn’t need to tell me jackshit,” Mick says. “You suck at hiding stuff.”

Sparkly flushes, and yeah, Mick can see why Snart took to calling the kid ‘Scarlet’.

“Snart is dead,” Mick says without beating around the bush any further. “And yer gonna bring him back to life.”

Sparkly’s face is sad and indignant and shocked at the same time. Mick might break out in hives any minute from so many feelings in close proximity.

“Look, Mick, I can’t bring people back from the dead. I don’t know how much you know about my powers but I can’t just, just go and...” the kid flails.

Mick contemplates shooting after all. Himself, if nothing else.

“The bastard couldn’t even die like a normal person,” he says. “He ain’t pushing any daisies right now, he got himself blown up in a temporal explosion.”

Sparkly is staring at Mick expectantly. Good for the kid that he is cute, really.

“He’s scattered throughout all of time and space,” Mick explains patiently. The last time he’s been patient with anyone was with Lisa when she was small. Snart is gonna owe Mick for this, and owe him big. “Like Humpty Dumpty. And you’re gonna put him back together again.”

“How?” Sparkly asks, eyes huge.

Mick needs a beer. Seriously.

“You got that Speed Force thing going on. Professor tells me it’s connected to everything, everywhere and everywhen.”

“Everywhen isn’t a word,” Sparkly says.

Mick raises his gun menacingly, and Sparkly lifts his hands in surrender.

“Go run through the Speed Force and put him back together. Or else.”

Mick hasn’t actually come up with the ‘else’ part yet but Sparkly seems to have skipped over it altogether. He is wringing his hands, frowning and muttering to himself.

“If I reach out to him through the Speed Force, I won’t have to change any past or future events, but I need an anchor or, or a compass maybe, perhaps memories, that could work, shared memories, I could just, like, fish around for him with those, and then he could help me find the way himself...”

Yeah, Mick’s work here is done.

He gets up and leaves, Sparkly not paying him any attention.

* * *

When the Waverider visits Central City again - about six months after Mick’s conversation with Sparkly - there is a fruit basket waiting for Mick in his favorite safehouse. It’s full of beer, not fruit, and the bottles are resting on a thick layer of crushed ice.

Mick grunts in satisfaction and pops the first cap.


End file.
